


CADILLAC

by laviie



Category: Akira - All Media Types
Genre: Angst, Blood Mentions & Injuries, Dom/sub Undertones, Drug Abuse, Dubious Consent, In Akira hell and it's so cozy down here why would I want to leave??, Kaneda POV, Lots of Angst, M/M, Not the healthiest relationship one could think of
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-08-10
Updated: 2017-08-30
Packaged: 2018-12-13 18:33:03
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 4
Words: 13,550
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11765877
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/laviie/pseuds/laviie
Summary: It's not like I ever wanted to be his friend anyway.It had always been more of a give and take, anyway.





	1. Eastern Express Highway

_Gentle_.

 

But there was nothing gentle about him this time.

 

_Sensitive_.

 

But he was pulling my hair so roughly electricity ran through it.

 

_Senseless_.

 

But I felt him on every inch of my skin, the corners of my lips, the dark meanderings of my blurred out thoughts.

 

_Fragile_.

 

But it was him breaking me this time.

 

 

 

* * *

 

 

 

Same apathetic noise on the TV, it seemed to crawl inside my head like a monster.

Motionless pictures glitched through a dusty screen, I coughed pills, stripes of venom stained my reflection.

Playing chess with ghosts, a king fell off his throne at the edge of the checkerboard.

And I did nothing but watch it tumble on the floor.

 

 

So what if the Earth exploded? It'd let us alone anyway.

_Us_ was me and him, disgusting familiar face with a body worn out from the snow he breathed in.

We laid on the floor for hours staring at the ceiling hoping it'd crumble down on us, our fingers intertwined in a knot even thin air could undo.

People bled themselves to death down the roads outside the silence of our bedroom and all we did was breathe in and out, staining every wall with sweaty handprints and warm frantic pants we would've died to secret.

Because violence was a perfect word, an escapism we had built for ourselves.

 

And the people I loved, I hated all of them.

And the people I hated, I loved all of them.

 

 

I remember pulling the edges of a white cotton sheet to cover my shoulders, glanced at it again and suddenly it was stained with blood from scraped knees and spilled can highball.

My hair was damp, my whole body perspiring, an ache in my back from when I fell asleep face down at the bar counter the night before.

And next to me, his skin covered in goosebumps and sweat, was my only friend in the desolation of a room foggy with smoke puffs and medicine fumes.

His eyelids were barely open, I could see he was looking my way, but his gaze was far from where I was.

I passed my thumb on his moist lips, cold and pale like funeral rain, I felt his teeth like gravestones of marble to celebrate the thousand things he'd never said.

 

And I kissed him, but he didn't realize.

He tasted like anesthetic, he numbed my thoughts, restless agitation sedated like a tamed animal.

He didn't move because he was paralyzed.

I looked at him, wanting to feel what he was feeling.

Nothing.

 

 

_I'm sorry, I lied again_.

I promised I would've taken care of him, I lied again.

Raw insides rammed amorphous, new bruises on old yellow ones, to be beautiful again, purple and idle like he was.

Lost catching falling stars behind my eyelids, I lied again.

Chipped nails dug into the brittle skin of wrists, bleeding colorblind tears from dormant eyes.

Lips smudged in rash yearning, soft tongues and heavy bones.

God turned his back on us to don't see the hell we were raising.

 

Because hell itself was ashamed of us.

Because hell itself was holier than us.

 

 

I opened my eyes after something in between sleep, or a trance, or exhaustion, I can't remember.

I needed a shower, I smelled like medicine and my hair was moist, stuck to my forehead, it tickled my eyelids.

I sat up, passed my hands on my face, my temples hurt and my nose felt runny, but I ignored it and sniffed.

My gaze fell next to me where he was supposed to be.

 

He wasn't.

 

I got up with a sigh, on my way to wash my face, but stopped in front of the window.

I couldn't tell if it was night or day.

A feverish veil of dim light ghosted over the buildings, pollution and dust dirtied the air. The sky boomed white, dark rain clouds prowled closer, a storm was raising from the horizon, blowing leaves and debris from the empty streets. The purple electric silhouettes of lightnings left neon blotches on my pupils, the aggressive echo of thunders was only softened by the pattering of rain against the rooftops, the windows.

I breath in the smell of dust, moist, wet asphalt as I walked back to bed, suddenly tired, suddenly aware.

The wind howled in the alleyways, rusty air conditioners outside the houses puffed out hot air, the neon signs of shops were already on together with orange street lights.

 

But nobody was there to look.

Nobody was there to notice.

 

Only me, pulling the sheets up again to suffocate every thought the same way I always did.

I didn't notice he was there, staring at me with stony bloodshot eyes, shoulder against the doorframe of another room.

I realized later when my arms became four, my legs became four, another head rested on my neck.

"Did the world end yet?", he asked in a whisper, and I sighed, hanging my head against his. "I wish.". 

 

 

I didn't eat.

I was too bored to, food had no appeal.

I popped two capsules, then a third, and rolled my eyes back as it hit my head, right where I needed it to.

I wasn't as numb then.

He looked at me from the other side of the room with only his shirt on, shaking hands with his fingers around an empty can, his teeth drawing blood from the bruises on his lips.

"How many did you take?", he asked.

 

_I lied_."One.".

 

I kept my eyelids shut, I didn't see him closing it, didn't see him on his knees next to me.

I felt him take my head, keep it close to his chest.

I heard him sob with his clenched teeth, curse my name under his breath.

But I said nothing.

I felt strange, I wanted to laugh, but I couldn't.

I brushed his jaw with my lips, his chin, the corner of his mouth.

He rested my head on the pillow at the edge of the bed, he moved away but I kept him.

 

_Stay._

 

_Please, God, stay._

 

_Don't leave me alone._

 

_This is hell, I can't be alone._

 

_I'll die if I'm alone._

 

He frowned when I gripped his wrist, complained when I pulled him down, kicked me when I rolled over him.

He pushed me away, I fell by his side, I looked at him as he started to cry, his veins blue and swollen under his eyes, and thought he was beautiful, for the first time.

Because he was. He was beautiful.

 

 

Same spot at the same bar, table by the jukebox in the corner.

Clouds of cigarette smoke danced with the ceiling, everything seemed to spin, burned edges of blurred mind photographs overlaying with what remained of my friends, _our_ friends.

They were all far gone above the sky in their minds, their bodies weighted them down on sticky leather sofas, inhibitions turned to dust as the pills on their tongues sparkled to nothing.

This girl was by my side, I can't remember what her name was.

All I know is that with her hand under my arm I was looking for Tetsuo's fingers in the space that divided us.

She turned around to talk to someone, I was getting bored, rolled my head to him and he glanced at me before adverting his eyes.

I leaned in closer to his face and kissed him under his jaw, his neck tensed when I touched him, his eyes fell shut.

 

I moved a hand on his thigh, he slapped it away and got up, left to go get a drink or something.

Moody little bitch he was.

 

I thought Yamagata had seen us.

I broke in cold sweats when I saw his blank eyes on us, he was expressionless. He was irresponsive to my frowns, my gestures, I guess that's when I realized it.

 

That he was staring at the empty space.

That he was so high he couldn't speak.

Yet all I could feel was relief.

 

It would've been our secret for another while. 

 

This one girl kept trying to talk to me, I didn't care about her or what she had to say. I kept on looking for Tetsuo's frame among the crowd of people that could barely stand on the floor, but he was nowhere to be seen.

I told her some bullshit, that I was going to get something to drink, she complained but eventually let go of me.

I made my way to the bar counter, but he wasn't there. Pushed girls out of my way to the other side of the room, no luck. I saw the bathroom door was a little open, thought maybe he was there.

And he was, curved over the sink in the dim blue of the neon lights.

I called his name and he raised his eyes, they were red and swollen and wet as if he'd been crying.

He sniffed, told me to stay away.

I couldn't.

 

I didn't get him, all of sudden.

We'd been at it hundreds of times, it was always cool with him, why suddenly he was so touchy?

I raised my hands to his cheekbones, my thumbs stroked his lips gently, and I moved in to kiss him. He didn't pull away this time.

His skin was warm but his mouth was cold, moist, tasted like tobacco and medicine.

 

There was _something_ inside his eyes.

I didn't notice at first, maybe I didn't pay attention, but it had been in him since he was young.

_Don't think about it_.

 

His hands gripped my jacket firmly, he pushed me inside a stall, against the wall.

I hit my back hard, saw stars, lost sense of a few seconds but heard him close the lock.

He stormed towards me harder than before, his teeth biting my lips with a vehemence i never felt from him.

His hands stripped me of all I had on, insensitivity numbed my body but I felt his rough palms so clearly on me.

 

_Don't._

I was thinking, _don't_.

 

He pulled me by my back and closed the distance between our chests, the fabric of his shirt rubbed against me and I just wanted to take it off, but my hands were shaking and I couldn't move.

 

_I hated him_.

 

I wanted to fall on my bruised knees, melt to the ground, so he could kick me like kids kick puddles, like he kicked people into pools of blood.

The drugs weren't enough.

I needed more.

 

He pulled my hair, turned me around violently.

 

_Don't_.

 

I opened my neck to let him kiss me where he wanted to, where I needed him to, begging him silently to mark my skin with the same storminess I bruised his before.

He pulled my head back, sunk his teeth in my flesh, I bit my tongue almost enough to make it bleed to keep myself from saying his name.

I wouldn't have.

His hands gripped me harshly, tears fell from my eyes, but I didn't know why. My open palms were sweaty against the wall, my lungs burned in need to breathe more but I wouldn't have given in without a fight.

 

But what was I fighting?

Did I _want_ to fight?

 

He promised in my ear he wouldn't have stopped until I fell on my knees.

I told him he needed more than words to make me.

He slammed me against the wall again, took my face in his hand with a dark grin, kissed me deeper than I thought he could, his tongue drawing circles on the roof of my mouth.

 

_Take me, God, take me_.

 

We fucked there, in the goddamn bathroom stall. I had never felt him inside before.

He had a way of pinning me back every time I moved away, an unafraid violence that I never thought I could love, but ended up becoming addicted to.

He broke parts of me I didn't know I had. There isn't much left to do once you've moaned your best friend's name stoned in the bathroom of a bar.

He kissed me more every thrust, tears were bleeding out but I couldn't stop them.

 

_I couldn't_.

 

He pulled my hair back, making my neck open, kissed me sloppily on every pulsing vein under my skin.

He kicked me down on my knees.

I swallowed him and my pride together.

 

_Never again_ , I told myself.

_Never._

 

He made me promise I'd never get high again.

 

_I lied._

 

 

I coughed myself conscious after what felt like the worst trip of my life.

I was sitting on the floor of my bedroom, no shirt on.

I breathed in, felt my throat raspy for some reason.

I raised myself up, hand on the wall to balance my body which seemed more unstable than usual, staggered to the kitchen for a glass of water.

I raised my eyes off the floor to the usual mess on the counters, old takeout boxes piled up next to empty shelves.

And in the middle was him.

 

He glanced at me, his nose bloody, his eyes empty.

There were red spots dripping down his shirt, his fingers were shaking, one hand held something, a plastic bag.

"I didn't think you were up.", he almost whispered. "I am.", I shrugged, a frown darkening my face.

His eyes ran up my chest to mine, and fell deep into me, enough I could almost feel them watching my every thought turn to stone.

He dropped the bag on the floor, thousands of pills and capsules spilled all over, some rolled to my feet and I watched them motionless.

 

The Earth was shaking, wasn't it? I felt it.

The ground was moving, furniture banged against the wall, but we weren't afraid.

 

Our gravity was centered around each other now.

 

I stomped angrily towards him, stepping on some drugs, shattering them to dust.

He didn't flinch when I grabbed his collar, looking him dead in the eye.

"You don't have to touch my stuff.", I spewed in his face. "You won't need that shit, you promised.". He didn't seem afraid, maybe that was the worst part.

"I'm not your bitch.", I frowned, pulling his shirt enough to almost rip it. "Your words, not mine.", he grinned, and I bit my tongue letting go of him roughly.

With a click of tongue, I turned around to go back to bed, when I felt a hit on my head that made me drop on the floor.

 

It actually _hurt_.

 

My knees were enough bruised as they were, that gave them one more reason to go purple.

I looked over my shoulder, widening my eyes at Tetsuo's figure hovering over me, standing tall in the dim light.

"Now you're on your knees.", he smirked widely, almost laughing, and passed the back of his hand under his nostrils to wipe the blood.

 

I didn't move. I just watched him dangerously widen his eyes, looking psyched out, terrifying.

"What are you gonna do now, Kaneda?", he shrugged, and threw a pill in his mouth.

I said nothing. What was I supposed to?

 

I followed him as he walked out, the ground stopped moving, everything stood still again.

And looking at his back as he laughed to himself, I couldn't help wondering.

Wondering just how much alike we actually were.

Wondering if he, like me, bled Cadillac red.


	2. Route 5 To The Old Town

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> I glared at him asking if he did it to himself.
> 
> He said he didn't.
> 
> I asked him who it was, he told me to keep on kissing him.
> 
>  
> 
> I did.
> 
> I didn't care that much about him anyway.
> 
> It's not like I ever cried thinking about him gone anyway.

_One_.

 

Blood.

 

_Two_.

 

There was blood.

 

_Three_.

 

There was blood on the floor.

 

 

Hypnotized by spilled veins and broke sweat, fogged mind from the hot, heavy lids.

I tried to breathe. 

 

 

_Blood_.

 

It was a bad dream.

 

_Blood_.

 

It was pooling under my shoes.

 

_Blood_.

 

No one would've saved me. 

 

No one ever saved me.

 

 

 

* * *

 

 

 

Wave after wave, a crash, the calm, repeat.

Why it was so calming to look at the sea from the railway, at the edge of Route 5 to the old town, not even God knows.

Maybe because in a city that constantly changed, among people that were never twice the same, the repetitiveness of things I couldn't control comforted me.

 

_Black waters_ , _black sky_ , _black buildings_.

_Black asphalt_ , _black bruises_ , _black tear stains_.

Look, we're the same. 

 

He was waiting for me by his bike, can in hand, that was his second.

He was puffing out lungs of smoke, shoes unlaced on the cracked road, neon skin from the streetlights.

 

And I looked at him like I missed how things used to be.

And he looked back at me like he didn't know what I was talking about.

 

 

I met with Kaisuke outside a mini market near the center, too early for the sun to be up.

I gave him the pills, he gave me the cigarettes.

We sat down on the sidewalks looking at broke down cars pass by, sighing.

 

He asked me what happened to Tetsuo.

Told me he looked ill.

 

I told him I didn't want to talk about it.

 

He asked me what was happening to me, I felt distant.

 

I told him I had no words to talk about it.

 

 

Woke up the morning after, hungover, my head was spinning. Didn't want to get up so I didn't.

If there was ever a time when Tetsuo stayed with me through the night, it was done now.

He came by all the time without asking, how he always did, but we didn't talk as much now. We didn't _fuck_ as much now.

Maybe I missed him, but it was hard to tell what I felt at all when the drugs kicked in.

Maybe I needed that shit because, in fact, I did miss him more than I could take.

 

Still he would have never known, I wouldn't have told him.

I was not that close to the rock bottom yet.

 

I floundered to the kitchen, helped myself up with a hand on the wall, almost laughed at how pathetic I must've looked.

There were two empty glasses on the table next to some old takeout boxes, that for some reason looked out of place among the mess on the counter.

One was empty, the other had still something in it. Water, I knew because I took a sip.

I tried to remember, but my head punished me with a strong hit when I did, so shrugged it off and drank some more water instead.

 

I turned my head to the wall and choked on a sip, coughed drool on the floor, before slapping his face.

"You could've told me you were here, fucking-". I couldn't finish speaking, my tongue got tied as I kept on coughing.

He covered his face with his forearms, taking the hit of my hand on his elbow instead, and frowned at me behind his barely open fingers.

I glared at him finishing the water from the glass, then pushed it slid on the table counter before heading back to bed.

 

I dropped on the mattress, covering up to my head with the sheet, but felt so hot I kicked it off after only a moment.

I kept my eyes shut, I didn't want to see him.

But I felt him lay down next to me, and despite hating his guts, I did nothing.

 

I wanted him as much as I didn't.

And I needed him, too. I needed him as much as I didn't.

 

I flinched only slightly when I felt his warm breath closing in, his lips so cold like they always were, I didn't leave him the time to kiss me because I did instead.

I rolled on top of him, longed for his mouth like an animal.

 

Because things weren't the same.

We weren't the same but I needed at least him to be the way I knew him first.

 

_Mine_.

 

I rested my weight on his chest, his hands held my wrists under his jaw, I was too focused on his lips and how soft they were despite everything.

I thought it was going good until his knee hit me, I wasn't damn expecting it, I tumbled back next to him, heavy eyelids.

 

He bit on my lips, where they were ripped, drew blood out of me.

He kept my face in his hand, liked to watch me helpless.

And I shuddered when I said he should've stayed in his place.

He laughed when he said he only just found it.

 

 

At least he still looked the same.

His damp disheveled hair the color of dust, dark locks that crowned his forehead like a halo.

Circles of purple under his eyes smudged into tired cheeks, thin lips too pale, his complexion of a dusky tan that captured pale suns into his pores.

Dark pupils I couldn't look at, they would've sucked me in like black holes.

Arms toned by violence, scratched nails, purple empty veins on his hands, his neck.

Shirts that fell loose around his waist, a clumsiness in his movements his pride tried to mask.

And his voice, goddamn. His voice that reminded me we were young. What was he, sixteen, would've turned seventeen next month.

I wasn't dying for that day to come, but then again it was me against the time, the time I couldn't control.

 

I could control _him_ once, though.

I could control everything about him once.

 

When he came over, I could push him against a wall, get a bloody nose from his fists, kiss his open mouth, hands on his shoulders as we stained the sheets once again.

I had him.

Not even God knows why it had to change.

Why suddenly it was on me.

 

Tetsuo was rough, so fucking angry, bitter to the bone.

And I felt it because when he was inside me he lost all self control and it wasn't funny, it really wasn't, pounding me like he wanted to destroy me.

I hated it. Being on the receiving hand, I hated it.

No one would've had the best of me, I was no one's whore.

And that he smirked like I was his made me lose my mind.

 

 

We were back at Harukiya again.

Couches, cigarettes, girls. No fun.

She was still hanging off my arm, telling me all about the crazy stuff she made up that happened in this school she probably didn't even go to.

I looked for Tetsuo, stretched my fingers out to where he always sat next to me, but this time he wasn't there.

I caught his silhouette by the jukebox, curved over the titles of songs we heard thousands of times, he glanced at me over his shoulder before pushing himself away and walking to a couch in the corner of the room everybody was dancing in.

Without making up an excuse this time, I got up and shrugged at her when she asked where I was going, elbowing my way through the people to where he was.

 

A little corner of darkness the lights didn't reach, the others couldn't see, but I saw him.

With his white dirty tee stuck to his damp chest, knees apart with his bruised elbows resting on them.

He glanced at me and I looked at him, felt the timid warmth of the dance floor neons shine on the back of my head.

 

I should've just walked away.

I should've left and never thought about him again.

 

But I took a pill from the bag in my pocket, threw one at him, he looked at it for a moment before tossing it back at me.

I popped that one too.

 

I sighed as I fell next to him on the sofa, kept my eyes focused on the light up floor, the people with their laced glasses in hand, acted casual when I knew exactly what I was there for. And he knew it too.

He started to say something but two people sat down just next to him, we both glared at them but they seemed too drunk to care, had tall glasses in their hands.

They were chatting loudly, laughing boisterously, people like them got on my nerves, I would've kicked them if I only had the chance to, but he didn't let me.

 

He grabbed my wrist, looked at the in the eyes, I didn't want to look back but I did.

His fingers moved down to mine, he stroked my hand gently with his thumb, rested it on his thigh.

 

_Goddamn_.

 

With the corner of my eye I kept watching the people that sat there with us, they threw us mischievous glances and giggled stupidly with each other.

If they were even just remotely sober, they would've remembered us. And we really couldn't afford it.

 

But the drugs were kicking it, I started to see stars, the ground started to feel miles and miles away from my feet.

My fingers slid down to his crotch, he let out a groan with his clenched teeth, eyelids fluttered closed with a whimpered breath.

I moved in to kiss his neck, he let me.

My tongue drew circles on his skin, I felt his heart race faster, I needed to hear his voice more.

The two girls seemed to see someone on the dance floor and left, leaving their glasses behind, we were alone again.

 

He barely waited for them to be out of sight to lay down on the sofa, I crawled on top of him, kissed his mouth open. He let me.

I was touching up his arms, flinched at a feeling I didn't recognize. He frowned as I ran my fingers on what seemed like scars on his forearms, hissed when I touched a vertical one that cut down his veins.

 

I glared at him asking if he did it to himself.

He said he didn't.

I asked him who it was, he told me to keep on kissing him.

 

I did.

I didn't care that much about him anyway.

It's not like I ever cried thinking about him gone anyway. 

 

 

Funny how I lived nights I forgot about the morning after.

It was like living in a repetitive broken circle of self questioning that had no end, that maybe gave me answers at a point, but I was either too high or too drunk to remember.

The past few days had been a little too much, I needed to slow down. Unlike that junkie of Tetsuo, I knew when I had to.

 

Think I got up far past three in the afternoon, didn't eat, fuck eating, almost passed out by the bathroom's door.

Maybe I _did_ need to eat after all.

 

There were like, four people sleeping in the kitchen.

Kaisuke with his head on the table, Yama next to him sprawled across the counter, Kuwata face down on the floor. Tetsuo against the wall with twitching eyes as if he was dreaming.

I kicked his leg to wake him up, he grunted cocking his head the other way, but I knew he was no longer sleeping.

Kuwata really was in the way, but he was too heavy for me to even think of moving him, so I stomped with wide legs to don't step on him to the fridge, it did look pretty lonely but there was soy milk at least.

I grabbed the carton and took a sip from it, a single line spilled from my mouth but I didn't mind much, I was about to put it back down when I heard a yawn behind my shoulders and saw Tetsuo getting up from where he was sitting.

 

We said nothing, I just closed the fridge and slalomed back to him, handing him the carton.

He had this way of drinking milk that was awfully noisy, kind of amusing really, made me think less of the movement his throat made when he swallowed.

And really, it was captivating. A kind of dirty fascination that turned me on so bad, made all the blood disappear from my brain.

 

He glanced my way as I was staring, I didn't look away, he almost choked on his milk realizing just what my eyes were saying.

He spilled some on Kuwata's back, but he was asleep so deeply he didn't realize.

Cursing under his breath, he wiped his mouth with his forearm and put the carton back in the fridge, walked over Kuwata's legs to where I was.

 

I smirked at him, the corners of his lips white, and I ran my thumb on them.

His eyes fell closed, feeling each and every movement I made, and his mouth slightly opened, inviting me in.

I brushed my fingertip against his teeth, his tongue, he kissed me gently.

I looked at him and his eyelids rose, his hands reached for my hip bones, grabbed me and abruptly pulled me towards him.

Our lips met again, but it was more thrilling that time.

Because all our friends were sparkled around the kitchen and we were making out before their sleeping eyes.

 

 

I guess you get used to things and after a while you don't know just why you're doing them, still the idea of stopping never even brushes your mind.

After all, it's part of a routine now. Gets you through the day.

Even if yeah, sometimes I took it too far.

Went from my left hand to someone's right in a matter of days and that's mostly how it started.

Bar backdoor, tired of just wondering what it would've felt like, waiting for him to drink himself unconscious to bring it on.

 

" _What if we tried it_.".

 

His teeth and that ominous smirk he gave me. Guess it was history now.

 

Were we ever lovers? No idea.

 

Feelings were never something I paid much mind to.

They were stupid and always got in the way of me being happy.

 

Then again, I guess happiness was something too.

The kind of thing that wouldn't have come unless I let it.

 

It felt kind of sick to me, that all of sudden there was something similar to it in my life, to think of all the crazy shit I- _We_ went through to archive something that remotely felt good.

 

Then his mouth came.

And his bones came.

His hands came.

The kind of kisses that smudged his features, softened his skin, shaped it after what my lips needed- They came.

 

We were back at it in that broke down apartment's barely working shower, no hot water, piercing cold rain that felt even colder against skins so raging.

When he was sober I liked him the most. I liked him when he was stoned, too, not as much when he was drunk, but when there was just his own blood pumping his veins- That was when I recognized him the most.

Because despite hating my guts for being the one that could claim his body, for being the one that could make him shudder like that, breathe like that, he didn't really mind.

 

Because unlike me, he was _made_ for that.

In my head, he was made for me to bruise him.

 

Hurt him, break him, heal him.

 

He was panting in my ear, the sound of water running suffocated him, his wet skin stood dry under my palms.

I never thought about it before.

_Never_.

 

But that kiss we shared with stripes of cold water between our lips, hair ruffled from pulling, his fingers looking for mine down my sides- That _must've_ meant something.

 

It _had_ to mean something.

 

I was nothing if that didn't mean something.

 

 

I was laying down on the dirty floor of Yamagata's motel room where he settled for a while, stuff with the other gangs had been a little out of hand lately so everyone seemed pretty stressed out.

I watched him chain smoking cigarettes for almost an hour without saying anything, glancing at an empty TV that hissed like a monster.

I was getting used to that distorted silence when he opened his mouth.

 

"What's up with you and Tetsuo, uh?", he jerked at me with his chin, and I raised my eyebrows.

"What do ya mean?", I frowned a little, and he shrugged dramatically. "You _know_ what I mean.".

Looking upset, he brought another cigarette to his lips, and threw his lighter on the floor after a few tries to light it.

"If I did I wouldn't have asked.", I grimaced, and a cold glare moved my way.

 

"I _saw_ you.", he opened his arms in a wide gesture. "I thought I was seein' shit the other night at Harukiya, but this morning as well. Wha, 're you a thing?".

"Take it out your ass.", I bluntly replied, kicking my head to the side as my arms crossed. "You're always either stoned or hangovering, you're chasing ghosts.".

 

He stood there, looking at me with his cigarette hanging from his lip from the tall chair next to the kitchen counter.

"Kaneda, cut it.", he shrugged, and shook his head. "If you don't remember how ye look at him, drugs must be harder on your head than they are on mine.".

That pissed me off, a _lot_.

I would've expected to feel different if someone saw me- _us_ , maybe worried, but all I felt was angry.

I got up staggering from the wall, my legs were kind of numb after sitting for long, but I didn't mind.

I headed for the door, was about to walk past the frame when his hand stopped me.

 

I realized I was cold to the touch because he was warm.

I was sweating like a fever, dry lips, weak bones.

 

I turned around to his face and he shook his head.

"You're doing this wrong, Kaneda.".

"Don't tell me what to do.", I shrugged him off, and stormed outside in the parking lot.

 

 

Cracked asphalt, smell of smoke and gasoline, dim streetlights.

I looked down at my shoes, hands in pockets.

 

_No idea_ of how to call this feeling.

 

Frenzied, irritated, bitter- I was all of those, but there was more.

I was sure there was more but no words to describe properly would come out of my head.

 

One did, but I didn't let myself pronounce it, not even with my thoughts.

 

I kicked my head back, closed my eyes, squeezed my fists closed.

The feeling of my fingers dancing on his thighs, when I kissed his teeth, his tongue, wet frantic pants in the nape of his neck.

 

That could mean no good, I knew it damn well.

We wouldn't have been able to keep it up forever.

 

But as long as it lasted, just as long as it lasted, it made no sense to abstain.

 

 

I never went at his, but that night I just might have.

Took the route back to the city center to go home, but got bored and curved inside the highway to the old district instead.

I stopped in front of this broke down building, first floor was a gang hideout for a bunch of bozos, the third a drug dealing spot.

The second Tetsuo's apartment.

 

No damn elevator so I walked up, someone was moaning loudly from behind the door by the entrance, I rolled my eyes because gangs really all were the same- Prostitutes and party drugs and bitter alcohol.

 

Tetsuo never closed his damn door, I opened it with my forehead as I took my gloves off, feeling my hands itchy and sticky from the hot.

I found him sprawled on the sofa eating some rice from a bowl, he looked up at me almost surprised, I was surprised more because it was nearly dawn and he was still up. 

 

 

The best thing about Tetsuo was, he didn't ask.

If you told him you wanted to talk about something it was different, he would put down what he was doing and sit with his legs open, ready to listen to you and your ranting, maybe would've said something at the end but he didn't feel good enough about himself to actually give advices- Which was good, his advices were _shit_.

But if you simply walked in his house looking questionably tired and decided to crash his bed, he didn't question you.

 

Maybe that was why we went along in the first place.

Maybe that was why when he spoke just after I sat next to him, I almost jumped.

 

"Something wrong?", he asked, and I looked up at his face from where I was, my head on his shoulder.

"Why you ask?", I frowned, and he let out a long, silent sigh. "You're hot.", "I know.", "Hot to touch, jerk. Got a fever?".

I snorted a little laugh, but he didn't seem amused at all. "I'm good.", I shrugged, and he raised his eyebrows. "Alright then.".

 

He reached out for a glass of water on the coffee table under my feet, drank some, I was mesmerized all of sudden.

His throat, damn. His lips, I wanted to be glass to cut them loose.

 

I moved in and licked up where his vocal cords were, he almost choked, spurted water everywhere.

I didn't give him the time to complain, I longed for his mouth, kissed him as I rolled him down under me.

I guess he first moved his hands to my chest to push me away, guess he forgot every time how good it felt- _We_ felt.

Maybe that's why he let his hands fall loose down his abdomen, undoing his belt, how I loved that sound.

 

I fell off the couch.

Ouch.

 

Didn't feel it much, just felt the weight of my back hit the floor, but I was more fascinated by the feeling of his body sitting on my stomach.

 

He looked down at me with a smirk, I didn't mind that time.

He pushed my legs open, I let him.

Bit and sucked on every corner of my lips, I loved it.

Pressed my chest down, gripped my neck, made me breathe.

 

_Breathe_.

 

And my pride wasn't letting me admit how good it felt.

 

And in a whisper, drained by bruised mouths and sweat, he said it.

His lips moved to my ear, kissed me gently, told me something.

 

_I love you_.

 

_I want you_.

 

_Don't look at anyone else_.

 

_Don't touch anyone else_.

 

I couldn't breathe, but I told him I would have never let myself be his.

Told him, _you know I can't be anyone's_.

 

_You know I'm a hurricane_ , _overdriven Cadillac down an endless highway_ , _not even the wind's as free as I am_.

 

I lied.

 

He didn't know, but I lied again.


	3. Temple

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> I could understand feelings, instead.
> 
> Just not mine.  
> Not quite mine.

Tired, I woke up tired.

It was becoming such a familiar feeling I barely minded anymore.

 

Someone's blood on my knuckles, scratched knees, my room smelled like tobacco and burnt plastic.

A week had passed since the last time I'd seen Tetsuo.

It's not like I was avoiding him, more like he was avoiding me.

 

I didn't mind that much.

 

I didn't _need_ him anyway.

 

I knew exactly why he needed space, I didn't mind leaving him, it was cool with me.

 

I had breakfast alone, at the kitchen counter, soy milk.

I glanced at a second empty glass, still there from days before, and a sigh escaped my nostrils.

There was a bottle of whiskey someone left last time they came over, I shrugged as I reached out for it and poured some inside my milk.

 

To hell with everything, I was getting drunk again.

 

And that time, Tetsuo wouldn't have been there to stop me.

 

 

In that state of half consciousness, colors and memories blurred in one abstract painting I couldn't understand the meaning of.

That one time, he was eight, I think. I saw it for the first time, that _something_ in his eyes.

 

He was looking at paper burning from the ray of light that filtered through a pane of glass.

I was damp with sweat, my clothes stuck to my skin, hair greasy and shiny.

 

I called out to him, he didn't reply.

 

I tried again, no luck.

 

I stomped up to him, he was staring at white burning black, little red flames building up on the tabletop.

I moved my body to sprint and take that paper off, but he stopped me harshly.

 

"Look.", he said.

"I always wanted to see it turn to dust.", he smiled.

 

I didn't pay attention to him back then.

 

Not even when he came to me asking to cover up for him because he sneaked out of the backyard.

 

Not even when he started stealing breads from the canteen.

 

Not even when he pushed a nurse who wanted to medicate his scraped knees.

 

It's not like my world revolved around him, he could do what he wanted to, I didn't mind.

It didn't cross my head once that it was me all along. Me that shaped his mind after the most twisted designs, that shaped him after _me_.

 

I shaped him after me.

 

_What have I done?_

 

 

A thunder woke me up when I didn't realize I was sleeping.

My chin was rusty with saliva and I was breathing in a puddle of milk and whiskey with my head on the goddamn counter.

I sat up with a grunt, followed the passing of a car's headlights as it illuminated the kitchen for a brief moment, stared into the emptiness as I calmed my pounding head.

I tried getting up, but I fell on the floor instead.

 

_Damn._

Blue knees and thin ankles, everything I ever knew.

 

I raised my eyes, he was there.

 

"How did you get in?", was the first question that came out my mouth, he shrugged.

I frowned. I wasn't sure if it was my throbbing view or the stars that scratched my brain, but his eyes were red. In his hand was a ripped open plastic bag.

 

_Oh no, he didn't._

 

_God, tell me he didn't._

 

With a hand on the wall to help me up, I stared at his face, pallid, burned out.

 

"What have you done?", I almost yelled at him, but he didn't flinch, only lowered his eyes at the floor.

I stomped to him and grabbed his stupid collar, the ripping noise of stretched fabric shadowed my nails as they dug inside it.

"What have you _done_!?", I repeated, louder this time, he just looked at me.

 

"You don't have to touch my drugs, fucking-", " _Kid_ , right?", he suddenly opened his mouth.

" _Kid_ , right!? You were about to say that, weren't ya?!".

 

He pushed me away roughly, the pills in the bag rolled off on the ground as he came back to me with his eyes dark.

"Say it!", his palms opened against my chest, trying to make me lose my balance.

 

"That you're a kid? Goddamn yes, you are! Keep on doing what I tell you not to do, what else are you?!",

"I don't need you to tell me what I have to do, dammit!",

"Then make money to buy your own fucking pills instead of taking mine!".

 

He didn't like hearing that.

He really didn't fucking like that one.

 

The light from outside thundered on his crooked face, he didn't even look like Tetsuo.

 

Melting red eyes dripped on his blood stained shirt, pale knuckles intertwined with veins under his skin, closed in firm fists, body shining with cold sweat.

 

He hit me once, I felt it strong on my face.

I glared at him, grabbed him by his sleeve, punched his stupid face, threw him on the floor.

 

If he wanted to mess with someone, he chose the damn wrong person.

 

"The reason _I_ am the leader, and not _you_ , is because I'm stronger than you'll ever be.", I hissed, he was twitching like a worm under me when I sat on his stomach, both his hands above his head under my firm hold.

He tried to kick me but I barely felt his knee brush my back, the face he'd done when he realized it.

My fist landed on his cheekbone, smudged his face in pain, he groaned with his clenched teeth.

 

I picked him up from his shirt, his shaking eyes met mine.

His pupils were so wide I couldn't tell where they begun and where they ended, if they even ended at all.

 

I let him fall on his back again, he hissed, frowned at me.

"Get the fuck off me!", he struggled under me, but I didn't let go of him a second.

 

I hit him again.

 

_Again._

 

_Again._

 

He coughed, cried, pulled my shirt, tried to unbalance me, but I couldn't stop.

 

"Please-", I heard, and my first stopped inches from his cheek.

"Please, stop.", he shuddered, watery eyes.

 

There was blood.

Smudged red under his nostril, that impregnated his lips, his teeth that showed so slightly.

Blue started to creep around his eye, veins darker than I'd ever seen them, his tiny lashes trembled with his gaze.

 

"You were never supposed to do this shit.", my fist landed on the thin space next to his ear, he wheezed, turned his face the other way.

 

I felt his chest raise frantically under me, his pupils devoured his eyes.

 

"I never meant to do this to you, goddamn!", I pushed his chest, he skipped a breath.

"But look at what you're doing to yourself! Hell, you're _killing_ yourself!".

 

I jumped on my feet, throwing a glare at him on the floor as he rolled over and coughed in his hand.

 

_Fucking idiot._

 

My hand suddenly hurt, I looked at it and it was scratched, started to bruise a little, I opened the sink and let it under cold water for a little while.

Veins grew out of the skin as the redness disappeared slowly, I just stared.

 

Didn't pay attention to anything until I felt hands creep in around my waist.

 

The water filled two glasses, one overflowed, the other stood empty.

It spilled, fell into the other, that slowly became just as full.

Like the sun and the moon, of reflected light.

 

_Don't touch me_.

 

But please, do.

 

_Don't make me feel this way_.

 

_Don't make me want you this way_.

 

He rested his head against my shoulder, I said nothing, he just stood there.

I turned around to face him, his fingers gripped my shirt behind my back.

 

I stared into the emptiness of two black holes, felt my body melt to the floor, dissolve into cigarette ashes, painted on rough walls.

 

I had no beginning and no end because I was nothing.

He had scratched edges and marble lungs because he was everything.

 

That was not what it was supposed to come to.

The blood smoking behind his pupils made me hate him every second, the purple one under the thin skin of his knuckles made me love him for every moment I didn't.

 

He buried his nose just above my collarbone, breathing in slowly.

I had nowhere to go so I let my head hang against his.

He kissed me with an unbearable sadness, where he knew he wasn't supposed to, those pale scars of bones and highways of veins up to my jaw.

I couldn't stand him, I wished for him to become dust so I could step on him, again, again.

I wanted to push him, but the feeling of his muscles under my palms was as familiar as the roaring of an engine after a week spent inside, powerful, dangerous.

I was trying to detoxify but I got myself addicted all over again.

 

I never wanted to be his friend anyway.

 

It was more of a give and take anyway. 

 

 

"Yama told me.", Kaisuke sighed gravely glancing at me through the table, the blinking of a ceiling fan the only sound in the room.

"He seemed worried, y'kno? Said Tetsuo looks like a walking dead. He's always pale and staggers a lot.".

I pretended not to listen to him and turned over another page of the magazine on the table, raising my eyebrows at the picture that filled the right page.

"This one has nice boobs.", I nodded to myself, trying to find a caption with her name somewhere around the bottom.

" _Kaneda_.", he sighed, and I interrupted him.

 

"Oh, I saw this movie she was in.", " _Kaneda_.", "It was crazy. She was fucking like three guys on a train and-", " _Kaneda_!".

 

I raised my eyes to his frustrated face twisted in discomfort, and gave up on trying to side track him, resting my cheek on my knuckles. "What.".

 

He inhaled soundly, and let his fists fall on the tabletop.

"Look, I don't really care if you and Tetsuo are...", "We are _nothing_.",

"Yeah, well, I wouldn't care if you were _something_. That really _isn't_ the point. But I've seen him around less and less lately, dude, I didn't even recognize him the other day! He's so pale, thin, so... You get what I mean, don't you? You're always together, you should-",

"What, should I _know_? I'm not his babysitter, Kai! If he wants to overdose on pills let him! He'll hit his head against it once and for all with his own brain. I can't tell him what to do.".

 

I turned another page with a click of tongue, and a sigh reached my ears.

"You wouldn't miss him?", "Wha?".

 

I raised my eyes to find his sad ones staring back at me.

"If something was to happen to him. Wouldn't you... Miss him?".

"That doesn't matter.", I sighed.

 

"That would've meant he decided to made me miss him. I'd be just a victim of the consequences.".

 

We stood in silence.

It's not like there was much to say, anyway.

 

Sometimes Kai'd give me those glances while I wasn't looking. He probably thought I didn't notice.

 

It was like he was saying, ' _Kaneda is not human_ '.

 

' _Kaneda only says that because he's not human_ '.

 

' _Kaneda can't understand feelings because he's not human_ '.

 

I could understand feelings, instead.

 

Just not mine.

Not quite mine.


	4. Kisarazu Industrial District

 

I hit my head so hard I thought I'd die.

In a pool of blood that wasn't mine I didn't know what to do, struggling to get away, red under my nails, scratching the floor.

Because maybe I _did_ care.

I _did_ care more about the arms around me than the overpowering strength that was ramming me empty, about the lungs dissolving in ashes, about the dark black veins that carried the impossible sound of a fastening pulse to a static buzzing brain.

There was blood dripping from my nose and I was seeing stars, how pretty they looked, like neon batches of late nights out.

 

But I was nowhere far as thoughtless.

 

I was nowhere far as numb.

 

 

* * *

 

 

How it came to that, guess you know.

That's what animals do when they're both headstrong and both want the other's space.

They bite, scratch, hit, chase into an endless bloodsport that can't end until one of them is dead.

 

I wouldn't have been the one to perish, I kept on telling myself that.

 

Every time our eyes met, lightning hit and our hands met with the lights out, lips on lips, breathing mouth in mouth, punching blood from stone carved bones, until we fell heavy side to side, knowing who'd won, and who'd lost.

 

It had been fun for a long time.

 

He'd trace the scars I left on his arms with pride, a silent vow of belonging to me until his skin wouldn't have healed, it would've been my job then to take him back again.

But I knew what he thought I didn't. I knew about the blades that slid mercilessly across his wrists in a pathetic attempt to become his own body. To create new scars that meant the ones I left lost all power on his fragile mind.

 

Then again, he probably wasn't as fragile.

I was so enamored with this image I had of his body, this feeling of bones under my thumbs when I touched his face, this brittle, younger Tetsuo I met first.

So in love with the thought that we could've been friends and that he, out of all the people, could've looked at _me_ seeing some sort of hero.

 

But I was the bad guy in his story.

I was the big bad wolf that ripped his skin off and he was left half dead, drawing revenge from his own lips.

 

Now he needed to win, maybe that's why.

 

 

He needed to show me he wasn't mine.

He needed to show me I was his, his to keep, forever, or for how long he wanted me to be.

 

Tetsuo was never a courageous person. He was never brave.

Tetsuo cried his eyes off on the bathroom floor and couldn't talk to girls.

 

He needed them- _Drugs_.

He wasn't all about escapism like I was, he didn't need the fun, he needed the courage.

So he took more and more every time, to dissolve himself, smearing his shape into a distorted shadow that wanted to look like something he liked more than himself.

Something that looked like me. But he was so, so far from what I was.

 

I cared about nothing, he cared about everything.

I didn't think about dying, he lived dead.

I fucked around for the hell of it, he kept it all for me.

And that's why he wanted to kill his heroes suddenly.

Why suddenly this perfect image he had of me shattered into sharp edged glass he cut himself with now.

 

If anyone would've suffered, that should've been me.

The love I could give him blanched next to the rage he kept inside those black eyes of his. 

 

 

We spent a whole two weeks without seeing eachother.

I sometimes wondered what would've happened if I went over at his place, but decided to don't give him the satisfaction to see me crawling back to him.

Yamagata told me he'd seen him around, he seemed like he was doing better.

Asked me if I knew for how long he'd been clean.

Shrugged and said I didn't know.

 

_I lied_.

 

 

It rained every day and every night for what felt like an eternity.

It was humid and muggy, the broken AC in my apartment did not help one bit, I rolled around on my mattress in cold sweats on no sleep for whole hours.

Nothing marked the passing of time. No voices, no laughs, no anything.

 

I looked at my body and felt like my reflection somewhat felt familiar for what seemed like the first time. But it was so depressing to look at.

There were no bruises on my knees, no bruises around my neck, on my arms. No fingerprints on my face, no warmth, not the picking cold of his lips ghosting.

 

I could tell I was alive because I was breathing.

 

I would've lived forever because I didn't lose my soul yet.

 

I was thinking of lots of stuff in front of the mirror, I almost didn't hear the knock on the door.

 

I went up to see who it was, stood in silence with an almost frown staring at Tetsuo.

He stormed past me, catching me a little off guard, I shrugged thinking he probably wasn't feeling the day and closed the door behind my shoulders.

He plopped down on the sofa with a open hand on his face, he wasn't breathing normally, feverish pants separated his lips.

 

"Hey.", I frowned, walking up to him, and his hand reached for my sleeve, pulling at me only enough to make me stand still.

I knelt down by the sofa, and he separated his fingers to look at me.

 

I frowned.

_What happened?_

 

He bit his lips sheepishly with watery eyes.

_I knew what he meant._

 

I wish I didn't, but I knew what he meant.

 

"Falling one time won't cut your legs.", I sighed, and stood back up.

"It did before.", he replied softly, maybe thinking I wouldn't have heard him.

I raised my eyebrows, rolling my eyes. "If you're so self conscious you should learn to keep your hands to yourself.".

 

I walked over to the kitchen to get his dumb ass some water, came back with a glass that was sweating from the bottom, he threw a suspicious glance at it before taking a sip and falling back into the couch.

I sat down in the empty space next to his feet, raised an eyebrow as I looked at him from his stomach to his neck, a grieve breathing filled his chest.

 

"I'm going to die.", he laughed coughing, and I shook my head with a sigh.

"You're not going to die. Close your eyes and sleep for a while.",

"Trust me Kaneda, this once, if I close-",

"You're not going to die, Tetsuo.",

"If I die-",

"Shut up.",

"If I die, will you-",

"Shut up!".

 

I don't know what got to him.

Saying stupid stuff or whatever.

 

He _really_ was high. But you know what, I wasn't there to listen to his blabbering about death when he had zero fucking idea of what he was saying.

The way he laughed when he did pissed me off even more. I moved to leave, but he kept me from my wrist.

 

He moved his head slightly to his left, to the narrow empty space between his back and the couch'.

I raised an eyebrow.

He clicked his tongue in annoyance and curled in a ball with his arms crossed in front of his face.

 

The yawning of cars outside the window sliced the silence for only a moment before leaving us wordless again.

I laid down. He flinched when I rested my head on his shoulder, looked back at me, I smirked.

 

He smelled like medicine, like hospital rooms.

 

I buried my nose in the nape of his neck, he protested with a grunt, still I didn't move away.

I knew I wasn't supposed to. But I craved his hands, how cold his fingers were when they ran down my shivering arms.

 

Touch, anything that could make me feel something.

Anything that felt like him, and there was nothing.

Nothing. No one and nothing.

 

I casually brushed my lips against the back of his neck, he whimpered, but I heard a smile in his voice.

I kissed him a little more, he leaned back closer into me.

 

"You're becoming so soft.", he mockingly smirked at me, and I snorted.

"Want to feel for yourself?", I whispered in his ear, he stuck his elbow playfully in my side.

"Keep your gross sexual innuendos to yourself.", he chuckled.

I closed my arms around his neck, keeping his shoulders against my chest.

 

He looked back at me, his eyes didn't look as empty. They didn't look as scary.

I shuddered a little when he moved in closer, a hand creeping through my hair as his body rolled over.

 

There was nothing in that kiss. There was no adrenaline, no frenzy, no lust.

But in that kiss, there was everything.

 

It scared me a little how casual it was, the kind of kiss lovers give.

I never thought it would've been him. High. On my couch. With my hands creeping under his shirt, his thumb behind my ear.

It was almost righteous. Almost pure.

 

And when he pulled away, I pulled him right back and kissed him again.

 

I wanted more.

More of that same feeling of innocence.

 

"You're really getting soft.", he giggled, and I pinched his skin under his shirt with an amused smirk, his knee hitting my leg in response.

I buried my head in the nape of his neck, and he hugged me tightly.

 

"This isn't like you.", I murmured.

"This is the most like me I've ever been.". 

 

 

I almost couldn't believe it when we woke up all tangled up with our clothes on.

That was strange. Felt strange. But so good. So, so good.

I moved my sleepy eyes up to his face, he was stroking a lock of my hair absentmindedly, keeping me close with the other hand.

 

He acknowledged me after I yawned with a half smile.

"I didn't die.".

"Of course you didn't, you asshole.", I chuckled, and he did the same, letting his shoulders fall around me.

 

The truth, embarrassing, naive truth, is that the feeling of his hands behind my back made feel in place.

Made me feel safer than I made him feel. Because if they do say that what loves is infinite- I could say I was. And he was, too.

In that almost detached, cold fashion he had.

 

I drew kisses up his neck- his thin, cold neck, I felt him breathe.

He pulled our lips together with a mischievous smile, his hands dangerously moved down my sides, I didn't mind at all.

 

I taught him everything he had to know, he didn't need instructions now.

He walked the invisible roads of my body map the same way he would've walked his hometown's. He could navigate blindfolded until the last shortcut to my heart.

 

Back against the kitchen wall, he didn't shake now.

Kissed every corner of his bones, he knew what he wanted now.

He came back like I knew he would've, but I didn't need to control him now.

 

Hurricane met hurricane on the tabletop, he never said my name but that time, he did.

 

I always knew he was mine.

I never knew I was his. 

 

 

 

He turned seventeen the day after.

 

Nothing fancy, late night out with the gang at our usual bar.

He told me he wanted to get wasted but I knew it was water in his glass all the time.

Staggered back home under his arm, he laughed at my drunk ass but I had no intent of getting mad at him.

 

We fucked again.

And again.

And again.

 

I couldn't count how many drinks I had, leave alone how many times I got off.

But I do remember falling to his side and watching his open mouth as he caught his breath, his fingertips blue and cold.

 

He asked me if it meant something. _We_.

I laughed.

 

I fucked him again.

 

 

But wars have no ending unless one side is defeated.

We simply couldn't live forever.

Not in the same space, the same time, the same bedroom.

 

Seventeen was a numb number to me but a ink black one to him.

He grew his hair a bit, wore darker jeans, worked on his motorcycle without gloves on.

He had arms covered in bruises, belt full of chains now. Smirked at me when we were alone but never let my hands go up his shirt anymore.

Kissed me with arrogance and violence, was more daring even in front of the others, it drove me crazy.

 

Yama asked me what the fuck had gotten to him.

I shrugged and said I had no idea.

 

That was a lie.

 

It was his warpaint before marching to battle with me.

It was an endless chain of ambushes with poisoned arrows that stabbed every bleeding muscle but the heart.

We hurt each other only enough to survive, bit lips with the intent to kill.

It was more convenient that way, we didn't mind those scars anyway.

 

And there was no casualty  anymore between us now.

 

No pecks or hugs or waking up together.

 

He was too old now. He was too haughty now.

 

 

September came.

I wasn't seventeen anymore, I was older, not too conscious about it yet, but older.

Same shirts as usual, same jacket as usual. Cutting hair in the bathroom sink in front of a rusty mirror. Burned out cigarettes next to empty glasses. One, only one, because no one drank with me anymore.

It was the calm before the storm, one that would've ripped my pride like roots of old trees from a muddy ground.

 

I was ready at arms when he came that one day.

 

Stared at me with glowing eyes through the door, inner lip between his teeth in a twisted simper.

It was raining outside so his hoodie was sparkled with wet spots, drops pooled under his boots like a shaky mirror.

 

He had those eyes again.

Dark and merciless, he would've killed.

 

One of us would've killed.

But I wasn't going to be his prey.

 

I told myself this as he grabbed my arms harshly, kissing me after so long he hadn't, deeper, harder.

I almost fell backwards as I reached out for anything I could've held onto, I found the couch's back.

He threw me over, I knew what was next, I tried to knee him but was too slow, his hands found place around my neck instead.

 

His grip wasn't too strong, yet the feeling of his thumbs pressing down near my collarbones was making me see stars.

I let out a moan, he seemed to like it, I took advantage of that stupid distraction to kick him off on the floor. I watched him tumble down, he laughed, but I wasn't laughing at all.

 

"I knew those drugs would've kicked in someday. You're nuts.", I stood up and knocked his arm, not expecting he would've grabbed my ankle, pulling me down again.

I hissed as I absorbed the hit, I felt him hover over me with his legs down my sides. "Get. The fuck. Off.", I shrilled, but he simply laughed at me.

I watched him wide eyed as he took his sweater off, his shirt hanging loosely around his frame when he raised the hems and tossed it on the floor.

 

It was war, finally.

And I was the battlefield.

 

I frowned at his chest, the tone in his arms, skin the same shade of gold, felt as cold to the touch, too- Was as mesmerizing, too.

"Guess fucking around's a good excuse to neglect workout.", I laughed with clenched teeth, and he cocked his head to the side.

"Never worked for those lanky arms of yours, though.".

 

I knelt him in the groin and watched him fall over as I stood up, coughing in my hand for a moment.

"I say, that fucking hurt!", he huffed with his face on the floor, and I took pride in his pained expression.

"I'm not half as weedy as you, punk!".

 

Goddamn, that was fun.

For some sick reason, it was always fun.

Getting hurt, punching, kicking, insulting each other like that.

It was a lifelong story for us.

 

We did it at the children's home, the nurses wondered what the hell was wrong with us.

They couldn't understand how we could have hands red of the other's blood and still smile and laugh together.

It was our little game- Our little, twisted, dark game. Who ended up worse lost.

Why we always needed to know who was stronger between us, that I can't tell. But we did.

 

I could swear, he wanted that.

He thought in my mind he was weak and useless and wanted to prove me he wasn't every chance he got.

 

Then, sex, of course.

Then we touched sex for the first time, and that was the beginning of the end.

It was much easier than fighting, it felt so fucking good, there was no even- One either lost, or won.

 

I don't know if every time we came to it in the past I was doing it to remind him I was the biggest between us.

The strongest. I do know that at a point he got a taste of what it felt like and had been obsessed since.

I wanted to laugh at him for thinking even just for a moment that who fucked who meant anything at all, but I made the rules.

 

It was too late to change my mind.

 

It was too late to change his.

 

I rolled him over with a kick, he hissed in pain as our eyes met.

I raised my eyebrows in surprise when I saw it.

 

_Red_.

 

_Thick_.

 

"Blood?", I frowned, and he huffed in panic, bringing his hands to his nose, louring at his fingers stained dark.

I smirked, and got up, rolling my shoulders backwards. "Better medicate that before you turn my apartment in a pool of blood.", I shrugged, and walked to the bathroom, where I kept some drugs and medicines and cotton.

 

I never made it to the door, though.

 

"I didn't say it's over.", he groaned, pulling my ankle backwards.

 

I fell gracelessly on my face, open hands absorbing only half the hit.

"What the fuck!?", I glared at him over my shoulder, and he smirked dangerously, red dripping down his lips.

 

"Listen, I get that you're turned on and shit but this way you'll-",

"I didn't ask you to care for me!", he pulled me backwards to where he was, crawling on top of me with a beastly strength.

 

He buried his face in the nape of my neck, kissed me up to my jaw, there was no tenderness in how he moved.

But he was turning me on. I could feel chills creep down my spine, I was getting hot, palms damp with sweat.

I could try to fight it, but my eyelids were droopy and I was conscious more and more of every brushing feeling around my thighs, my neck, my crotch.

 

"Ah, fuck.", I groaned under my breath, feeling wet drops falling on my skin.

My hair was sticking to the blood on the floor, I felt gross as hell, but I didn't mind it one bit.

 

That was not the right time to give in.

It was not the time to let him take me with what was left of my pride.

If I'd let him, I'm not sure I would've been the same person- Not only in his eyes, but in _mine_ , too.

 

I was not built for that.

 

I was not made for that.

 

I tried to kick him off when he took my shirt off, filling my mouth with his needy tongue.

I couldn't help it. His shaking hands reached for my hips, I grabbed his wrists but he jerked me away.

I hissed feeling my skin exposed, I looked down to see how far he went, but he gave me no time before touching where I needed him to.

My head fell back with a moan, I clenched my teeth feeling lust poison each and every vein in my body.

 

Stars blurred in meaningless spots behind my eyes, a building pressure in my throat that urged me to scream.

I bit down on my lips, suffocating every moan and whimper burning on my tongue.

 

_He wouldn't dare to_.

_He wouldn't dare to go any further than this_.

 

 

_Don't touch me there_.

 

_Don't_.

 

_Don't_.

 

I scratched his shoulder to pull him down, he frowned deeply with his gaze deep into mine.

I couldn't see him well at all. Warmth was pooling before my eyes, I couldn't blink or tears would've squirted down my cheeks, I wouldn't have let him see that.

 

A drop of blood fell from his face to land on mine, just under my lower lid, and I felt it run down to my ear.

 

My breath was cut short in needy pants, I couldn't possibly be so desperate when he barely touched me.

 

_I missed you_.

_You and your cold hands, but this isn't you_.

 

"I'm not your fucking bitch, dammit.", I grumbled, digging my nails in deeper.

He cracked a twisted smile, not sure how to say this. "Oh, but you're panting like a dog.", he sniggered.

 

I kept my breath with a tense chest, he laughed soundly at me.

"That desperate, aren't you?".

I knew it was a lost battle. It was not my day.

 

I was starting to see little flying stars crowning his face, but I wouldn't have given up without a fight.

His fingers ghosted on my skin down my bare chest, to my abdomen, to my- _Damnit_.

My breath rasped, I couldn't keep my lips shut anymore.

 

He sounded like he was having so much fun.

So much fucking fun.

It must've been such a wonderful sight, seeing me in pain.

 

My face was burning, my eyes melting down my cheeks.

I should've been strong enough to change it.

I should've been the one in charge.

It should've been _him_ and his ugly face flustered with that dark mixture of pleasure, bliss and torture.

 

_Not me_.

_Not fucking me_.

 

My heart skipped a beat when I heard him spit in his hand.

 

My body was panicking, but my mind was blank- Like static.

"Hey, chill.", he raised his eyebrows. "We've done this before.".

 

I wasn't sure if his tone was meant to reassure me, he sounded genuine, but it wouldn't have made a difference.

It wasn't sex that scared me.

 

I never liked being overpowered, but that wasn't the point.

It was knowing I had lost. I had already lost, and I couldn't win anymore.

 

He curled down on me and kissed me, slowly, with malice and numbing sweetness.

I felt him the second my insides mushed cold, it didn't even hurt, I felt nothing.

 

_Focus on the good_ , but there was no good to focus on.

 

I remembered, that moment.

 

 

"You really need to be more careful around Tetsuo. He's not as old as you, he doesn't understand how to balance his strength just yet.", a mild eyed nurse beamed at me, wrapping in gauze my bleeding knee.

"But I asked him to hit me.", I replied with raised eyebrows, and she frowned slightly at me. "That... Really isn't wise, you know? You could get serious injuries!", "I don't really care.", I shrugged with a sigh.

"You're the older friend, you need to show him a path of gentleness- Not violence.".

 

Our eyes locked for a moment before I adverted my gaze, and thought for a moment in silence before speaking again.

"This is what he wants.", I said. "I let him do this because I love him.".

 

She widened her eyes in surprise, almost incredulous. I stared back at her with firmness.

"You love him... How?". "Like the girls love the boys. You know?". She lowered her gaze with a deep concern on her face, the hands medicating me stopped.

"This is a very bold... Statement, Sho-", "Kaneda. It's just Kaneda.", I interrupted her, and she bit her lip.

 

"I don't care what you say. I don't care what anyone says. If he wants to hit me, I'll let him. If he wants to kiss me, be it. But if he wants to kill me, then, well... That could become a problem.",

"A... Problem...?",

"Yeah. Probably... I'd have to kill him first.". 

 

 

I'd have to kill him first.

 

_I should've killed him then_.

 

_I should've killed him then_.

 

_I should've killed him then_.

 

 

It felt too good to even be right- Maybe knowing it wasn't was what made it so much better.

Or maybe it was because he hadn't touched me in what felt like forever, and abstinence makes even the bravest fall, it had always been like that.

 

He hit just where he was supposed to.

He knew the pace and tempo to my strings like I was his favorite song.

And I couldn't breathe anymore, my lungs fragmented under the weight of so much pressure inside my chest.

 

Pressure of things that would've come out, sometime.

Because I was breaking and the cracks had begun to show decades ago.

 

"Do you...", I started, my voice broke in a moan, he frowned at my interruption.

 

"What?", "Do... You remember that nurse at the... At the children's home? The one... With long hair... You called her 'Princess'.".

He was panting, not as much as I was. He stopped slowly, did not speak, just nodded weakly. "She told me.", I smiled evilly.

"It was... Her fault. The reason why you... Mean more than the others, to me.", "Stop blabbering.",

"She.", I raised my hands to his face, and cupped his cheeks, my thumbs stroking the sides of his eyes.

 

"She told me... That Tetsuo was the weakest kid on the playground... That Tetsuo cried like a baby... That Tetsuo had no friends.".

His pupils widened dangerously at the sound of my words.

"And she told me... That there's no better influence for someone that miserable... Then someone as strong as me.".

 

His face twisted in anger, the veins on his forehead grew out of his skin in pure rage.

What I wanted. A smile cracked across my face.

 

"You can fuck me as hard as you want.", I chuckled. "But you'll never be me. You'll never be like me, Tetsuo. You'll always be the tiny... Crybaby... With bloody knees you've always been.".

 

I _guess_ I wanted to die. No other explanation made sense in front of his growing wrath, knowing I caused it.

 

"Now you've done it.", he hissed. And I knew I did.

His hand grasped my neck harshly, making my breath break, and I groaned when his fingers buried in my skin.

"I won't be the one to cry today.", he curled down on my face, a smug pride in his arrogant smile. "You get it, Kaneda!?".

 

He could yell in my face all he wanted, that wouldn't have changed a thing.

I don't know how for even a moment I could've thought of letting his pathetic act get to me.

 

I felt his hand hit my cheek in a rough slap, I don't know what he was thinking but I was not his punching bag. "Easily frustrated? Or just sore loser?".

He clenched his teeth, and hit me with the roughest thrust I ever felt. I kicked my head back on the floor, my hands falling down his arms and holding on to his tense muscles, feeling the beating of my heavy heart in my ears.

 

It wasn't even sex. It was just pure dominance.

He wasn't thinking of pleasure, he was thinking of pain.

But he wasn't thinking of himself, he was thinking of me.

 

I felt my nose running, realized later on I was bleeding too.

I started laughing hysterically among tears that started to come again, what a fucking mess I've made. _We_ 've made.

 

He hit _there_.

My eyes rolled backwards, I wanted to hold my breath but couldn't help a needy panting.

"Say it now.", I heard him say. "That you're not the only one who bleeds violent red.".

 

I felt him fasten his pace, I glared at him, praying he would've pulled out.

He didn't.

 

I wanted to kick his guts, but all I could do was stab his back with my heels as I cursed his name, I could see him through my shaky views in an even more pained expression than mine.

 

I smiled.

 

He had been the one to cry. 

 

 

 

Yama threw me a glance from the other side of his kitchen counter, I was swinging on a tall stool looking down at my glass of poured can drink.

"Tetsuo cut his hair again.", he raised his eyebrows, pretending to be busy reading some race news on his newspaper. "Yeah.", I simply nodded, shrugging when he looked at me expectantly in response.

"He looks better.", "With his hair short?", "Naw man, looks better than the last time I've seen him. He had some crazy dark circles under his fucking eyes, looked really worn out, y'kno?".

I raised an eyebrow at him, wondering if he was trying to talk me into another topic. "You sure worry a lot about Tetsuo.", I laughed him off, and even if he seemed a little pissed, he let it go.

 

I looked down at my hands, my eyes running down my palms the way his fingers always did.

"Actually, I'm late for something.", I jumped on the floor, and his gaze followed me as I shrugged my jacket on.

 

"Where to, your girl called you?", he asked.

"Yeah.", I smirked.

 

 

I jumped down the motel stairs, the smell of wet asphalt and gasoline filled the cold evening air.

My bike was parked in the middle of an empty lot next to another one, a figure burning a cigarette rested against his.

I took it from his lips and put it in mine, he turned his head to my face and looked at me in silence with his fingers still in place.

I threw an arm around his neck, he raised his eyebrows as I brought our faces together, puffing out smoke inside his mouth.

His eyes looked at the white dissolving cloud between us before moving up to my gaze, his arms crossed in front of his chest.

 

I kissed him.

Gently.

Slowly.

 

He flinched a little in surprise, but didn't move away.

 

"Route Five?", I asked, almost whispering, and he nodded with a little head kick.

 

 

As I left the parking lot, I saw Yama with his face stuck to his window pane.

I was hoping he'd seen us.

 

The days I kissed Tetsuo inside my apartments were over now, and that was for everyone to know.

 

I shared a look with Tetsuo before storming off down the broken road, he smirked at me as he sped up, no luck, I caught up.

But I wouldn't have tried to get ahead this time. 

 

It wasn't like I ever wanted to be more than a friend anyway.

He would've always bled a darker shade than me, anyway.


End file.
